Paradise Lost
by Gimme-Chan
Summary: AUish Knock Out/Breakdown. Chapter 2! Knock Out wakes up and is not exactly happy or grateful to find himself saved. WARNINGS: Talks of suicide.
1. Chapter 1

Oh good heavens, what have I done? I'd just like to apologize for this in advance. It's all angst and sadness. Don't read if you're already depressed.

I think this last episode of TFP pushed my Knock Out angst over the edge.

Warnings: AUish, character death, angst...LOTS OF ANGST. Slash

"Knock Out talk"

_Breakdown talk_

* * *

He lay against the rocky surface. The thought of scratches on his finish from the sharp edged rocks lurked for a brief moment in the back of his mind before dissolving completely.

It didn't matter anymore.

Nothing did.

It felt like everything had changed for the worse so quickly. Just a few weeks ago the thought of laying on this dusty rocky surface would have disgusted him. He would have thrown a fit over the very idea.

But everything had been different weeks ago.

Missions had been relatively successful. He'd spent his time in med bay doing repairs here and there. Then off to the lab to run up work on the synthetic energon formula. His free time spent gallivanting along Earth's highways, looking for underground races or any takers who felt they were up to it on the open road when the law enforcement of this planet was no where to be seen.

And when that hadn't interested him, he spent time in the company of the only other individual he actually liked, actually cared about.

Breakdown.

But that was all gone now.

Breakdown was gone.

And with him, everything.

When had Breakdown become everything? At what point in time had Breakdown's presence become so paramount in his life that his absence left Knock Out...lacking?

Knock Out's missions? Failures.

His work? Half assed.

His research? He'd become distracted to the point he'd made stupidly simply mistakes.

And Megatron's punishments...had become a constant.

Knock Out left.

Over a week ago now.

He'd had little idea of what he was going to do other than place distance between himself and the Nemesis. He simply ran. Refusing to answer any hails from first Soundwave, then Dreadwing, then Megatron. And Megatron's hadn't really been a message to call him back, simply a warning that when found he would pay for his desertion.

But Knock Out didn't plan on being around long enough to be found. From the Nemesis he'd taken with him only a few things; a single cube of energon, he wouldn't be needing more; the formula for synthetic energon; he had every intention of seeing it fall into enemy hands; and an unused polishing cloth that had been given to him as a gift.

A gift from Breakdown long, long ago. He'd never used it. Lied and said he had but he hadn't. It was by far a low quality product compared to what he generally used and he hadn't been about to touch his perfect self with an inferior quality polishing cloth. But he'd kept it, tucked it safely away in his subspace where it would always be near him, safe from destruction or loss. Kept it because he knew the pains Breakdown had to have gone through to obtain it, spending what every little credits he'd had. That and it had been a selfless gift on Breakdown's part.

Knock Out was use to exchanges. You did not give something unless you expected something in return. But Breakdown had given with no expectations of getting anything in return. Given for the sole purpose of making Knock Out happy. No ulterior motive was in play.

It gave a worthless piece of polishing cloth value.

Value that had increased over the vorns he'd shared with Breakdown.

Was worth more now than...anything he could name.

It was sooo stupidly sentimental.

The patter of rain on the ground then against his plating drew him from his thoughts, fingers tightening around the treasured fabric.

There was no energon left to consume. He'd begun weakening a few days ago and now he couldn't even walk. Life was draining from him with every passing minute, with every erratic spark pulse, every slowed beat of his fuel pump, every drop of energon that burned away to power what few critical systems remained online.

And he hadn't even been able to find the Autobots to give them the completed formula.

A smile actually split across his face as he looked heavenward through the rain at the twist of darkened clouds, a dry rattling laugh bubbling out.

Mission failed again.

Why change status quo now, right?

Depleted, system errors and shut downs scrolling through his vision, broader lining on deactivation, he didn't hear the large mech walk up to him. Didn't even notice him till the whine of a charging blaster reached his audials and a bright flare of a weapon's muzzle was shoved in his face.

He fought to focus, looking up past the gun to it's owner.

Weak dry laughter spilled forth again.

Bulkhead.

Oh, oh, Primus, this was all soooo fitting.

He'd taken Breakdown from Bulkhead back when, setting into motion actions that ended in the disbanding of the Wreckers by councils orders. And now Bulkhead could finally exact his revenge, finally kill the mech who'd seduced his proverbial 'brother' and turned him into a Decepticon.

It was all so...perfect.

One shot.

Just one shot to reunite the medic with his partner once more.

They'd surely search him after he was dead, at least he hoped they would. Then they'd find the formula. Test it as they wished to verify and then beat the ever loving slag out of Megatron.

His intakes strained as he smiled up at the Autobot. "Go ahead. Shoot."

Bulkhead glared down at him, a sneer pulling at his upper lip.

Blackness edged his vision.

Come on, Bulkhead. Shoot already.

"It's for a good cause. One less 'Con."

His body started to go numb as his senor relays shut down. His processor swam, dizziness making focusing hard.

"Won't...take much. One s-shot. Consider i-it…energy…cons-servation."

Intakes struggled, though he didn't fight it. His helm falling back completely against the rocks, baring his throat to the enemy. Easy target.

It was weird, the thought of dying didn't upset him but the knowledge he could no longer feel the polishing cloth against his fingers made him sad.

"You…get to…kill a 'Con…with minimal effort….and I…" Knock Out smiled, optics flickering out "I…..get to see Breakdown again."

And suddenly, everything fell away.

Knock Out had no idea if Bulkhead did finally shoot. He didn't hear it, couldn't see it, and was so numb he very well might not have felt it.

All he was aware of was a black void raising up to meet him.

And he fell willingly into its yawning expanse.

* * *

Awareness came slowly.

He weakly cracked his optics to see a warm white light seep into his vision. It wasn't sharp or over powering, just pleasant.

As was whatever he was laying back on. He could feel himself sprawled out on whatever softness cushioned him. He closed his optics and just floated on the sensations. It was delightful. An enriched peacefulness. Completely relaxing.

His fingers curled inward, brushing against his palm.

Knock Out tensed.

Fingers flexing again, meeting air instead of soft cloth.

His peace shattered.

No…no, no, no. He couldn't believe he'd lost it.

Knock Out struggled, working to summon the strength to open his optics and sit up when blunt fingertips traced along his wrist then along his palm, uncurling his fingers. He stilled as the hand covered his, thick fingers lacing between thin sharp ones, large palm eclipsing his smaller one.

The polishing cloth was forgotten at the slide of plating against his, warm and real. A large hand coming to rest carefully against his rib struts, stroking lovingly downward, following the curve of his waist, thumb tracing the lines of his abdominal plating.

Knock Out gasped.

Familiar.

So achingly familiar.

Breakdown.

Relief robbed him of any strength he'd found.

Breakdown.

A soft breath passed over him, tickling the sensors on his neck, up to play across his lips before his mouth was claimed in a firm but gentle kiss. He cracked his optics open again, seeing a blurry mix of blue, sliver, and redish-orange.

Breakdown.

His optics drooped closed at the playful flick of a glossa against his lips. His mouth opened, welcoming the familiar sweet invasion. Relishing the taste he'd feared lost forever.

He wanted to wrap his arms around that large frame, feel the plating warm and smooth beneath his fingers and palms. But his arms remained weak and almost unresponsive. The kiss deepened, the hand against his waist slipping under him, thick fingers splayed, caressing up his back, wringing a distressed whimper from his throat.

_Shhhhhh. It's alright, Knock Out._

That voice...not spoken aloud but in his mind. A warm shiver ran through Knock Out's frame at the welcomed invasiveness. What he wouldn't give to hear that voice again and again.

A thick arm slid under his shoulders, hand coming to cradle the back of his helm, lifting him slightly into the kiss as his partner's larger frame seemed to press in and curl around him protectively. His every movement, his every touch reassuring.

Loving.

_I've got you. _

The kiss broke. Lips brushing along his jaw before dipping down to press shiver inducing kisses against his neck, all the while Breakdown pressed them together. The hand pressed against his back stroked down. Fingers playing along the red grooved lines of his back. Caressing the flare of a hip to stroke down a lean thigh.

Knock Out sighed. "Breakdown."

_I'm here._

Knock Out trembled, the prickling sensation of fluid gathering, spilling out from behind closed optics as Breakdown's lips abandoned his throat to brush tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth. "I missed you."

He would never have said that before but here…it felt alright, he could say it here.

Lips closed over his again. Their warmth and pressure a soothing balm that rippled through him, easing the emotional ache, restoring peace of mind.

_I know. You don't have to say it. I know._

He was lain back. Large hands moving over him in reassuring caresses. Over his chest plate, his abdomen, across hips, down his thighs, up over the swell of his shoulders, down his arms, to his wrists, his hands. Knock Out relaxed, content to let Breakdown do as he pleased. And Breakdown had never disappointed. He knew what Knock Out liked, what he wanted, and always gave so willingly.

Knock Out drank in the tender touch, that carefulness Breakdown had always shown him. He luxuriated in this closeness, this intimately that had been ripped from him far too suddenly, far too soon.

It took a bit of effort but Knock Out was finally able to lift his hands to weakly grasp the thick armor plating of Breakdown's upper arms. He smiled as Breakdown eased from the kiss, his arms wrapping around him, hugging him close once more, cheeks pressing together as Breakdown nuzzled the side of his helm.

Knock Out hummed happily. "We can stay like this forever."

_No. Not yet._

The smile melted off Knock Out's face. "I'm-I'm dead. I died. I -"

_No. You didn't die, Knock Out._

His lips trembled as he fought for composure, fingers clinging tighter as he grasping at what he believed to be, wanted to be true so this would never ever come to an end. "Bulkhead...shot me? Left me for dead?"

_No. He saved you._

No.

"That idiot...all he had to do was shoot or walk away."

He felt Breakdown's lips pull into a smile.

_That's not their way._

"I don't want to go back."

Return to that mess? Return to all the pain and anger and war, the bickering and fighting, the plotting and scheming, sneaking and backstabbing...and for what? What were they gaining? None of it made any sense right now.

"I don't want to go back." He repeated, clinging tighter.

_You have to. You can't remain here. There's more for you to do yet._

Despair tried to seep in but Breakdown's arms tightened, holding him closer, actually managing to somehow push it back through comfort alone.

"Do I have to go now?" His voice meek with resignation.

Breakdown smiled against him again, a hand coming up to gently caress over his helm in a wholly soothing motion.

_Not just yet but soon_.

Lips slid against his cheek, venturing up to cover his mouth, indulging once more in a deep consuming kiss.

_Don't worry, Knock Out. I'll be waiting right here for you, when you come back._

* * *

Author's notes

...I'm sorry? :(

I hope I didn't totally depress any one (though I'm sure I did). I'm actually kinda mad at myself for writing this. I said I wouldn't write a KO/BD "oh no you're dead! Boo Hoo!" story aaaaaaaaaaaand look what I did. *sigh* I WILL get around to writing some nice fluffy KO/BD…some day.

Reading and reviewing is always loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings: Angst, Talks of suicide.**

Been a long loooooooooooong time since I've updated. Sorry.

* * *

Knock Out came online suddenly, like a sleeper ripped from dreams. He sat up, gasping as his optics went wide, staring. He had a full moment to realize he was somewhere completely unfamiliar before the pain slammed into him. Shocking in its intensity, it was enough he actually cried out.

"You shouldn't be online."

He didn't even register the voice as his frame shook. His lines burned from the neglect of having gone dry as his energon had burned away and now refresh energon was being pumped in. That sensation was relentless and stretched out to the tip of every limb making relief impossible. His vents were ragged as he struggled to remember what exactly had happened-

Breakdown.

He'd heard him, talked to him, seen him, felt him. But not here… No, no, no….this was all wrong. His frame felt heavy, a disgusting unwanted weight unlike the soft airy weightlessness he'd felt when he'd been with Breakdown. No…NO! He didn't want to be here. _Shouldn't _be here. He wanted to be with Breakdown.

'_There's more for you to do yet.'_

"Knock Out, you have to lay back down."

No. He didn't want to be here anymore. He hated it here….HATED IT. Sharp tipped fingers began to claw at the lines feeding into his frame, ripping them away with determination, energon leaking in rivets down his body. He needed to get out of wherever here was and set things right. He shouldn't be functioning. He didn't want to be. Not when he knew Breakdown was waiting for him. When all he had to do was die-

The hands suddenly grabbing him and trying to forcing him back down on the berth genuinely shocked and surprised him, as did who those hands belonged to, Ratchet. In a panicked bid for freedom, Knock Out twisted from the CMO's grasp. Sliding sideways, his foot caught the edge of the berth and he pushed away with all his might, tearing himself from both the other medic's grasp and the lines that had been pumping energon into him.

He landed on the floor with a jarring painful thud, energon splattering. His vision spun, vents faltered as he gasped for cool air, body curling inward for a moment as pain radiated outward. He probably would've lain there longer had Ratchet not come around the berth and started reaching for him again.

"NO! Don't you TOUCH me!" The red medic snarled, lurching backwards away from the Autobot.

"Stop. Just stop." The Autobot spoke in what was probably some attempt to be calming but Knock Out paid no heed. His vents labored as he scrambled to get up, his legs shaky, slipping in the energon on the floor as he moved.

"Stop! Just stop already!" Blunt dark digits reached for him and the Decepticon reacted, a clawed hand lashing out, swiping blindly in his enemies direction, making no contact.

"Get away from me!" He stumbled away, crashing into a counter. Leaning against it, panting, frame shaking, as he tried to force his vision to focus and will the pain away. He glanced up and in his washy vision he saw a familiar object laying carelessly on a tray across the room. A polishing cloth. His polishing cloth. The one Breakdown had given him. It suddenly became the most important thing in the room.

They had no right to touch it or try and take it from him.

Pushing off the counter, he stumbled toward it. Shoving the other medic away when he tried to stop him, jerking his arm from the other's grasp. Nearly diving for the tray in a desperate attempt to take back what was his and no one else's. He grabbed the cloth, gripping it tightly, clumsily tipping over the tray and sending its contains clattering to the floor.

"Knock Out! Will you just calm down! I'm trying to help you!"

The red mech turned to face his factional counterpart, leaning back against the wall for stability, the polishing cloth held tightly and close. "You can't have it!" He sneered. "He gave it to _me_. It's mine!"

The Autobot medic shook his head, face stern. "I don't give a damn-"

"Ratchet? What's going on in here?"

The voice and entrance of the large green mech caught both medic's attention.

"Bulkhead, I don't need you in here-"

"YOU!" Knock Out detached himself from the wall and shoved Ratchet out of his way with a new found strength entirely fueled by anger and hate and feelings of injustice at the hands of this moronic Wrecker.

Because of him, he couldn't be with Breakdown.

"You _idiot_! Do you have any idea what you've done!? Do you!?" Grabbing the nearest item, which happened to be a tray full of tools, he flung it at the Wrecker. Who actually had to audacity to look shocked and a little hurt even though the tools scattered around him and the tray was easily deflected with a forearm.

"Hey! I saved your life!"

"You weren't suppose to! All you had to do was pull the trigger or walk away and you fragged that up!" He grabbed a monitor and flung it, the screen shattering as it impacted green armor and fell to the floor amidst Ratchet's loud protest. Knock Out stumbled, the pain breaking through as he leaned against a wall, drawing in deep breaths, feeling woozy, but still managing a nasty glare at the green mech.

"You…you're a coward! Can't even…can't even kill a Decepticon." Knock Out sneered with undisguised disgust. "You're pathetic!"

The large mech squared his shoulders, hands curling into fists as he glared back, the anger obvious in those blue optics. "It's a mistake that can be corrected." the Wrecker spoke lowly.

"Then correct it!" The red medic pushed. "Go on! Do it! Do it now-" And arm wrapped around his neck from behind and he felt the sharp prick and slide of a needle into a line, an abrupt surge as something was injected.

"No…no…ssssssstop…" Time and world around him suddenly slowed down and he quickly found himself on his knees then his back, optics staring up as blurred shapes and muffled sounds moved around him, eventually giving way to a warm welcomed darkness.

* * *

The three stood in what served as their med bay. The mess of spilled and splattered energon and broken equipment still lay on the floor. Knock Out had been carefully moved back to the medical berth and was currently being hooked back up to various energon feed lines.

"I told you to leave. I did not need you in here. You didn't listen. And look what happen-"

"Aw, come on!" The Wrecker crossed his arms, frowning. "I walked in and said like three words and he exploded. That's not my fault."

"You're presence was a trigger."

"Oh, come on, Ratchet! How was I suppose to know he'd go insane?"

"You should have listened to me when I -"

Optimus finally had to step in and stop Ratchet and Bulkhead from arguing.

"Enough. Both of you. Bulkhead, go and see that the child don't wander in here. Given the state of Knock Out's condition, he may be a danger to others."

With an unhappy sigh, Bulkhead turned and left the room, mumbling sourly about crazy Cons. Ratchet waited a moment then spoke. "He's only a danger to himself."

Optimus shook his head as he stepped closer. "He could still cause others harm." He paused looking at the unconscious medic. "Do you really think…."

"Yes, I do. He would have died out there if Bulkhead hadn't stumbled upon him when he did during patrol. He's lucky we were able to even keep his spark going. If Bulkhead had walked away or found him later, his spark would have flickered out." He worked for a moment in silence. "The bigger question here is, what would drive a mech a like Knock Out to suicide?"

The Autobot leader considered for a moment. "Are we sure this isn't some ploy? Get a Con on the inside. Like Makeshift."

"I wondered that myself but…..I did a little digging in Knock Out's processor to find out just that and came across deleted messages from Megatron. He's promised death upon capture for desertion. Rather serious. And also remember he's their medic. If this is a mission, he's not a wise choice to send. And…..you didn't see him earlier. He…He really wants to die." Ratchet looked at Optimus. They both knew it was one thing to be struck down in the heat of battle and another to willfully orchestrate ones own death.

Optimus nodded, a troubled gaze settling on the unconscious mech. "We'll watch him. Do what we can for him."

* * *

****Author's notes****

The Autobots don't know yet that Breakdown is dead.

I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this.


End file.
